


And Then The Universe

by ironmessTM



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: A soul for a soul, Angst, Angst and Feels, Bear with me here you guys, Endgame AU, Gen, I swear like there's fluff too but, I'm Likely Going To Hell For This, Irondad, Not Anymore, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, So much angst, The angst spares no one, They all need a frickin hug come on this is my writing since when am I nice to characters I love, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Too bad I don't have one, Vormir, spiderson, still angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 10:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20722475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironmessTM/pseuds/ironmessTM
Summary: This is an AU chapter (of sorts) based on the story Only Time written by losingmymindtonight, which she gave me permission to create. Please, I cannot praise her enough, she is a phenomenal writer who has grown so much in her skill over the years of posting, going from great to amazing to simply stunning. Do yourself a favor, read her work. I promise, it will be beyond worth it.The premise of Only Time is essentially the plot of Endgame, only how it would’ve changed if Peter had survived on Titan, and come back with Tony and Nebula to find that Pepper hadn’t. I loved it, and wanted to give something she deviously teased at and then didn’t choose to follow a chance to be seen into fruition.This picks up where the last updated (fourth) chapter of Only Time leaves off, starting the morning of the big time heist, and shows where her story would’ve/could’ve gone, if:Tony and Peter had both gone to Vormir.Angst ensues.Enjoy.Thank you so much, and please let me know what you think! This one is special, to me, so...I hope you all can agree.





	And Then The Universe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [losingmymindtonight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/losingmymindtonight/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Only Time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18762646) by [losingmymindtonight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/losingmymindtonight/pseuds/losingmymindtonight). 

> (I know this note is really long, so idk I guess you don't necessarily have to read through all of it if big blocks of text aren't your thing)
> 
> So this is the project. I’ve been working on this for…technically around six weeks, but really more like three or so since I had to take some time away on a handful of occasions throughout the process, and come back with fresh eyes and a new perspective (and yes I got permission to write this a little over six weeks ago, I remember the date, but come on, this is me, of course I found a way to procrastinate it at first). 
> 
> I could have posted this sooner, way sooner, for sure...but I really didn’t want to rush this, or try to just get it over with. I wanted to put it up when it felt right, when I felt like this had been seen through to its full potential the way the opportunity deserved, and so I let myself take my sweet time as I needed it instead of maintaining an expectation of timing and why-haven't-you-posted-this-yet-the-clock-is-ticking on myself. (which was admittedly difficult, but I'd like to think beneficial). I...I worked hard on this. I'm trying to be nice to myself and give myself credit, and so...I did. I really did.
> 
> The writing and beginning stages of editing and then again a few times later on when I thought I'd be able to post did admittedly get mildly stressful, and for a couple handfuls of days or even a week at a time in between (which to me, as an amateur writer, is a long time) I had to step away and take a breath, and I would just like to say thank you to the friends who let me use (more like abuse) them as sounding boards whenever I needed it. Normally I write and edit on all my own without many problems, but I don’t think- no, this definitely, would not have come to where it is, without your guys’ help and suggestions and support. Seriously, you’re so amazing, and no I will not stop praising and thanking you for helping me out. Even the rest of you guys, who read what I put up. You’re all just amazing, all of you. Your comments and your praise really do mean so much, I can't even begin to describe how happy it makes me to see that...I don't know, that my creation meant something. Cheesy, I know, but it's true, and I know no other way to say it.
> 
> And, as a disclaimer of sorts, I'd like to point out that there are things done and things addressed in Only Time and I reiterate and kind of delve into in my own way, and that's because while this is based on the universe and plot timeframe Only Time sets and leaves off as a premise, this is still technically its own story. And there are some things that...well, the tone of the way I involve them changes. I can't write the exact same way as someone else, this is my take and at the end of it stems from my conceptualizations, try as I might to replicate some of these things as they were. Just saying.
> 
> Anyway, without further ado…here we go! Place your bets on which way this’ll go, and fasten your seatbelts, because if I did my job right, then maybe this’ll be something like a ride to remember. Or at least, if I’m lucky, one to enjoy. I certainly tried the best I could.
> 
> Thank you!

> _“Then where are the kid and I going to go?”_
> 
> _“Clint, Natasha, Scott, Bruce and I will go to New York to get the Mind, Time, and Space stones. You and  
Peter are going to go to Vormir, to get the Soul stone.”_

  


The words echoed distantly in Tony’s ears, rendered lost and barely audible over the stammering pounding of his heart. But that same rapid, disbelieving fluttering now mirrored itself in the hands of his son; those very knuckles going white as they tightened their grasp around his father’s shoulders. How Tony had gotten here, into this life; into this collection of moments he found himself so desperate to hold onto, he couldn’t say for certain. All he knew was that it’d started with those sentences, opening the door to what was now threatening to be their damnation. In spite of all the trials, in spite of everything he’d faced and everything he’d only just barely been able to walk away from, Tony was scared; somehow more afraid and more powerless than he’d ever been in his life. Surely, destiny, if there ever was such a thing, couldn’t be so cruel.

Not again.

  


…but could it?

  


\---

The morning of their mission, Tony found sleep slipping from his grasp long before their wakeup call actually went off. Knowing he couldn’t fight it, he lay back in bed with a sigh, and sat silently as what little reprieve he’d been able to gather was replaced by thoughts of worry and impending responsibility. Peter, however, he noted, was still asleep in his arms, clearly having been exhausted and in need of the rest. 

This, unfortunately, was in spite of the former crime-fighting spider’s rather restless tossing and turning, which had persisted throughout much of the night as a result of his nervousness. Peter was supposed to be preparing for the biggest, the most important, and possibly the most dangerous mission of his life, but somehow, what scared him…it wasn’t the mission itself. 

  


It was what the mission meant. 

  


If they succeeded, then…then he’d have Aunt May again. And the thought of having her back made his heart ache, because he knew it was what he wanted, and what he should want, but…he had Tony, now. What if they couldn’t find balance? What if he was forced to choose between them? And even worse, if they lost…would he be able to deal with having his choice made for him? He didn’t know, and as much as he tried to hide it, that didn’t mean that he was able to sleep.

Now, in a place merely a breath away – yet a realm almost too far away from which to return, Tony found himself lost in the ruins of another lifetime; alone even as he watched over the steady fluttering of his son’s chest, and secretly shared his fears. Seeing Pepper, again, and getting a do-over of every single moment wherein he felt for her touch and found nothing but a void, of all-consuming emptiness…he wanted that so badly it nearly made him forget everything else.  
But every time Tony went there he sobered, because he knew, same as Peter, that if this succeeded, and the love of his life came home…that Peter’s aunt May would be back as well, and that everything he’d built for the two of them could easily begin to crumble apart. 

It was a selfish thought, he knew. Peter belonged more to his aunt than Tony could ever hope to claim, and as justified as it was and as much sense as it made…he just couldn’t bring himself not to be afraid of the thought of a life, wherein that was what he had to feel every minute of every day. He and Peter were each caught between two worlds, all so achingly far apart, and any hope Tony could still nurture that those lives had a chance of coming together was kept sustained only by a gut-wrenching fear; the kind of corrosive, acid-like feeling that reminded him it was there all over again with every passing minute. 

But then, he’d always been scared of hope, almost like he was never meant for it. He’d resorted to cynicism, arrogance, and a view he liked to call “realism” to fill the void, retreating behind it and letting himself hide away. But to the version of himself he’d never believed could exist, Peter _was_ hope, and not the kind he was scared of; at least, not anymore. In the end, however, and above all, he knew that if prompted, he would do whatever it was that Peter needed from him; even if it meant letting his aunt take him back herself.

Because Peter’s happiness was his; no matter where he was, or whose arms he was in.

_Come on, Stark._ He thought, pulling himself back into the present. _Get your head in the game._

Now, setting the worrying aside as best as he could, he tried to mentally prepare himself for what was to come, to clear his mind and pull his old pre-mission mindset out of whatever mental broom closet it’d retreated into. But instead, he circled back, finding himself imagining over and over all the ways that this could go wrong. All of the ways in which he could fail. 

Fail Pepper, and fail Peter. 

He that knew he couldn’t lose focus, that he couldn’t waver from what was now and would always remain his primary directive; to protect the one he loved, to protect the one that was here, to protect _Peter,_ at all and every cost the world deemed necessary.

It was almost funny, in a way; before Peter, before Pepper, and before any of this, Tony had never been able to put much stock in those words, never quite been able to believe that anyone could possibly have the capacity to truly mean such a definitive, all-consuming statement. After all, to him, surely…everything had a cost, didn’t it? Just as everyone had a frequency at which their particles vibrated, surely everyone also had a price tag at which it would all be rendered meaningless. Somehow, he’d had a feeling that he did as well, in spite of how much as he’d tried to pretend that he couldn't possibly be that much like everyone else. Because even after he was Iron Man, he was still a businessman; still just an ordinary, fundamentally untethered, man.

But as the closest thing to a husband, and even more so as a _parent,_ as the guardian for this child whom he loved with all the cosmos and more…he understood. Because now, he had clarity. It was Peter, above all else;

  


Peter, and then the universe.

  


And he prayed, with all of his heart, that he could find a way to come out of this with both. Because as much as it pained him, he knew where his priorities were, and that none of the others – except for maybe the innocent and childish Lang, or the broken, embittered Barton – would be able to understand it. Because if things came down to the kid, or the rest of them, or even himself, he could be damn well sure that he was risking everything for Peter, regardless of where everything else stood, or where everything else was doomed to stand as a result of his choices. 

He felt guilty for it, and he hated that he felt guilty for it, because he knew that he shouldn’t feel guilty for it but that at the same time he still should. He was torn between the two roles he’d assumed, between the two people he knew he could never truly live without; even if right now, he was still alive, at least half of the way.

He was happy, yes. Despite the gut-wrenching feeling in the pit of his stomach, burning like acid as it reminded him that he shouldn’t be, he was still happy. He’d lost nearly everything, and he’d built a new life, with a new meaning for himself and a new place in the world to fill. And…as difficult, and yet as easy as it was to admit…he didn’t regret it. He loved what he’d found, more than the thought of nearly everything else.

Maybe, deep down, that’s what scared him the most.

Sometimes, when he wanted to steer himself away from the lurking shadows of that fear, he’d found himself wondering if Howard had ever felt this way; if his decisions as an albeit begrudging father or even as a person had ever stemmed from a mindset like this. A mindset of…something, of a fragile hope dragged down and discolored in fear. But at the end of it, Tony had decided that it didn’t matter, because…regardless, of the odds, and regardless of the circumstances, he’d resolved to be better to Peter than Howard ever was, and that was one promise he knew he would keep clear through his dying breath.

  


The weights of his mind were often heavy as they pulled him under, but Tony quickly drifted out of his thoughts when Peter stirred beneath his arms, letting him roll over to the side and watching as he lazily fluttered his tired eyelashes in the dim light of the room’s shuttered window. “T’ny?” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep as he slowly eased himself into a sitting position. “Wha…what time’s it?” Tony cast a glance over his shoulder at the nearest wall’s clock, which currently read somewhere around five or six in the morning.

“It’s about…five thirty in the morning, buddy,” Tony murmured as he ran his fingers through the kid’s wayward, bedhead-reminiscent curls. “I’m sure Cap won’t mind if we sleep in, maybe grab some more shuteye before we set off.”

“I…I don’t think I can go back to sleep,” Peter admitted, butterflies beginning to take flight within his stomach at the mention of their impending mission. He felt his heart beating nervously in his chest and a sheen of sweat renewing itself on his forehead, signs he figured his dedicated parent was bound to notice. “It’s just…” he trailed off, knowing that Tony understood what he was trying to say, regardless of his inability to put what he was feeling into words. But beyond that, he could tell that Tony felt it too; that what all of this could mean was just as frightening for the both of them. And, even then…Tony always understood him. Always. Even when they were at their lowest, and even when they were at their highest, Peter knew his guardian who was so much more than a guardian would always be there for him.

And of course – like clockwork – he was right, and Tony nodded; one look at Peter’s face being all he needed to understand. The older man pushed himself up, crossing his legs beneath his torso, and turned himself so that he was facing the boy still bundled up like a five-year-old within their blankets. _No, not a boy,_ Tony had to remind himself. Peter was twenty-one years old, a full-fledged adult in the eyes of society; even if to Tony, he would always subconsciously and consciously alike simply be “kid”.

But not just any kid. No matter how old they were, and no matter what things came down to, Peter was, and would always be, _his,_ kid.

  


Always.

  


“I get it.” Tony started, weaving the words together in his mind as he went. He’d learned how to tiptoe the line between comforting and honest, and it was moments like this wherein he truly felt that he had to put his skills to the test. Moments, when maybe he could’ve used something like that himself. “It’s…daunting. It’s staring you right in the face, it’s lurking behind the corner, it’s…all of that. But, kid…no matter what happens…you’re going to come out on the other side of this. I promise.” Tony took a breath, taking a moment to look lovingly at his child before composing his next thoughts, and doing his best not to hesitate as much as he knew he wanted to.  
“On this mission…I have one job. One, job…you know what that is?” Peter slightly shook his head, only partially feigning the innocence he’d been carrying with him in bounds since the day they’d first met. “My job,” Tony continued, holding Peter’s cheek comfortingly in the cup of his palm and praying that it wouldn’t shake. “is to keep you safe, and maybe – just, maybe – save the universe you live in while I’m at it. Okay?”

“Okay.” Peter echoed softly, relief bubbling on his face as his tensed muscles eased into Tony’s touch. At this, the older man’s eyes shone tenderly, before leaning forward and gently pressing a kiss to the crown of his child’s forehead as a smile coaxed itself to his lips. “Thanks, Tony.”

“You got it, kid.” Tony murmured, pulling the kid close for a hug. “You got it.”

\---

They’d sat like that in a peaceful silence, savoring the moments within each other’s arms – the simple well-being and the easy warmth – before Cap’s voice streaming through the intercoms had ripped the rug out from under them, and reminded them that they still had a journey ahead. That, at the end of the day, they still had a job to do. And so, as the sleepy comfort was wrestled away from beneath them, they gave one another one last long look before simply nodding; finding that somehow, the single gesture said everything they needed to say. Then Tony blinked, and Peter was gone, wordlessly slipping out the door and back into his room so that he could get ready and suit up. 

After a moment of staring at the wall, Tony pushed himself up, stiffly swinging his legs off the side of his bed, and repeating the words to himself like a mantra; letting them direct him forward into everything he’d have to do next. He resolved to think about the aftermath when it came. But for now… 

_Peter._

  


_It’s always Peter._

  


\---

After Tony had freshened up and put on the new time travel armor, he took a moment to savor the nostalgia of the new-suit smell, something surprisingly familiar that he hadn’t expected to have missed from his days as Iron Man. Peter was right, that one time he’d said his iron spider suit had smelled like a new car. On that one mission…that one mission that’d gone so terribly wrong. _Snap out of it, Tony._ he thought to himself as he stood at the foot of his bed. _Focus on the present, maybe even on the future, if you have to. But you’re not revisiting that past. Not today, not tomorrow, and if this thing goes right not ever again._ He took a deep breath, and then forced himself through the doorway, praying with every spare thought he could gather that he was prepared, and that he would be ready for everything they had lying in wait. 

Of course, he knew he wasn’t.

But the thought that he could try to be, at least in part, was something, and just good enough to be better than nothing.

Almost everyone had already gathered in the platform’s hangar when he arrived, the light sounds of various discussions blending out and reaching his ears as he approached. Where the older version of Tony would’ve announced his presence and stolen the attention of his peers as quickly as possible, this Tony simply took in the scene, watched and observed instead of getting involved. 

He saw Peter, all suited up like the rest of them, talking to Scott – presumably about movies – and laughing a softer, more relaxed version of that golden, vibrant laugh that Tony had once been afraid he’d never hear again. He let his eyeline linger, before the pang of his kid’s being here threatened to be much, and he had to turn his focus away. Rhodey, his faithful friend of a lifetime, proved to be an ample distraction, nodding along thoughtfully to something Nebula was saying. It was a pair Tony hadn’t expected, but with a pleased shadow of a smile he realized that he thought it felt surprisingly right. He turned to the side to see Rocket, snarking to Banner and eliciting a slight smile from Clint; who looked over at Natasha before the two exchanged a somber, grateful nod. And of course, there was Thor, standing silently and smiling widely as though everything was okay, and as though he didn’t want more than anything to abandon every concept of the mission and go drink a whole refinery’s worth of beer instead. In a way, Tony felt he could almost sympathize.

Almost.

“Tony.” the spectating man heard from behind, turning away from his moment of observation to see Steve for what felt like the first, and yet somehow still the last, time. The captain of ages past had evidently only just stepped into the room; the last person remaining on their morbid sort of roll call, and the one who had now called everything to order with little more than the echo of a single word.

“Rogers.” Tony said back, meeting the soldier’s eyes and doing his best to keep any remnants of underlying contempt out of his gaze. “Fashionably late, as always.” he said, before continuing with an only partially practiced quirk in his mouth. “It would seem, Cap, that we have a mission. You- you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, now would you?” Steve returned his hint of a smile with a look of gratitude, before quickly steeling himself and squaring his shoulders to address the group as they began walking towards and gathering on the platform itself.

“Seems I would.” He took a deep breath, before beginning; before kicking off the journey there was no turning back from, the journey on which all chips were down. Tony had known the man long enough to recognize that he secretly loved these moments, the moments right before he was plunged back into the thick of everything he could no longer live a life without. He really was the perfect soldier; he always would be, and as frightening as it was, it seemed to Tony that maybe, right now, that might turn out to be just what they needed. Somehow, it was as though of all the missions they’d seen, this was the one Cap had truly been made for.

And yet, in the swirling of his stomach, Tony found he could only hope to emulate the same.

“Six stones, three teams, one shot.” Steve began, letting the words ring in the team’s ears and settle on their shoulders before continuing, concise and meaningful. He’d always had a way of taking his duty, their responsibilities, their collective weights of the world and turning them into something they could use, something they could fight with. Even now, Tony found, was no exception; in spite of how much time had passed, and even after all these years. 

“Five years ago…we lost. All of us.”

“We did, didn’t we.” Peter murmured to himself, so softly that Tony was barely sure he’d even heard it. It was times like these, wherein Tony saw Peter as being no less fragile than an eggshell, as being something he needed to throw his arms around and _shield,_ from everything and everyone in the world who could ever make him unhappy or uneasy. It took all of his strength to keep himself from doing so now, strength he did his best to mentally focus towards the task at hand. Despite the fierce screaming of his parental urges to _protect,_ Tony knew Peter could hold his own. He knew Peter would be fine. After all, he had to be. And for Tony to make sure of that, he needed to have his head in the game.

However, what he didn’t know was that Peter could tell he was anxious, had heard his breathing hitch, and resigned to stay quiet for the older man’s peace of mind. 

After all, Peter had a feeling they’d need it.

“We lost friends, we lost family, we lost a part of ourselves. Today, we have a chance to take it all back. You know your teams, you know your missions. Get the stones, get them back. One round trip each; no mistakes, no do-overs. Most of us are going somewhere we know. That doesn’t mean you should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives….and we’re going to win.” He looked to the side at Tony, holding his gaze as he brought the monologue to a close. “Whatever it takes.” They exchanged a look, a moment; one look to cover a past so full neither of them would ever know where to start. But maybe, it seemed…maybe they could try to find a way to be okay with that. Like maybe all of this was somehow their mess of a peace offering. “Good luck.”

“He’s pretty good at that.” Rocket quipped before the silence could grow too heavy, a hint of genuine admiration from behind the words managing to shine through the snark his voice always seemed to hold close.

“Right?” Scott replied, exuding a childlike sense of excited disbelief that reminded a now-smiling Tony of the fanboy lurking within Peter, the fanboy that was in the teenager from Queens he’d met all these years ago. When he looked over at Peter now, Tony saw that same fanboy practically glowing in his eyes; the sheer awe written innocently onto his boyish features almost blinding, and only nearly offsetting the fact that the reality of the situation was clearly starting to settle in. 

Of course, Peter knew it was obvious, but…what did he care? He’d just been on the receiving end of a speech from _Captain America!_ Even though he’d stolen the man’s shield before, and gone head to head with him in combat, it was still incredible to think about when he looked at it that way. But the amazement was too pure to last, because Tony took two steps to the side and set a hand on Peter’s shoulder, pulling him out of his moment of uncomplicated amazement and back to the broader, chilling realization that this, all of this…

…it was all actually happening.

“Hey, kid, look at me.” Tony said, hooking Peter’s already rising heartbeat on the string of his soothing words. “Everything’ll be okay, alright? I promised, didn’t I?” At this Peter smiled, his nerves visibly unknotting as his muscles untensed.

“Yeah, you did, didn’t you.” Peter replied softly, his voice just barely above a breath but expressing relief and a momentary sense of calm nonetheless. Tony smiled back, before turning around with the intent to get the ball rolling while he thought Peter might be somewhere in the realm of ready for it. After all, he knew that he himself certainly wasn’t, and likely never would be. So, better now than never…right?

“All right, you heard the man; stroke those keys, Jolly Green,” Tony called over to where Banner was standing by the control console.

“Trackers engaged.” The other scientist called back, his gaze and the pencil in his hand focused on flipping the correct switches and making sure everything was doing what it was supposed to. Peter’s spidey senses jumped at the low rumbling whine of the machines activating, but he did his best to quell the impulses in his brain telling him to fight or run, hoping he was right when he assumed that this wouldn’t turn out to prompt either of him.

“You promise to bring that back in one piece, right?” Rocket said, looking somewhat skeptically at the shrunken-down Benatar lying innocently in the palm of Clint’s hand, and then back over at Peter. 

“Y-yeah, uh, we’ll…we’ll try our best.” Peter responded, clearing his throat. His expression was genuine, but unfortunately not the most confident, which elicited a quirk in the corner of Clint’s mouth. Peter shot an apologetic glance at Tony, who had to stifle a laugh of his own.

“As promises go, that was pretty lame.” Rocket replied, crossing his arms indignantly but clearly still somewhat willing to trust them. Clint then handed it to Tony, who slipped it into a pocket on his belt.

“Relax, Build-A-Bear, we’re not gonna joyride it into a cliff.” he said, somehow sufficiently easing the majority of the raccoon’s lingering skepticism. Bruce stepped onto the platform, activating the devices with a light slap to his wrist.

“See you in a minute.” Natasha said, a smile of hope hovering like a ghost over her mouth as she looked up at Steve.

“See you in a minute,” Tony heard Peter whisper under his breath, his lips just barely moving as his eyes closed and his head bowed slightly downwards.

“See you in a minute.” Tony murmured back, fondly stroking the kid’s curls one last time before their helmets activated, before the spirals of technology above and below them began to unravel, and before they were sucked away into the vortex beneath their feet without another word.

But as Peter pressed his eyes further shut, his spidey senses growing only louder, he found himself wondering if maybe, just maybe…they should’ve thought to exchange a few more while they still had the chance.

\---

At some point during the seemingly eternal seconds spent hurtling through the quantum realm, Peter had grabbed onto Tony’s hand, and when they emerged, fallen on the ground at their destination, their fingers were still firmly intertwined. They picked themselves up, dusted themselves off, and turned around, trying to take in their surroundings as Peter’s spidey-sense induced headache slowly began to dull around the edges.  
This certainly wasn’t the first time either of them had been on an alien planet, and it was obvious that they were both were trying their hardest not to let themselves become submerged beneath the waves of trauma that had never truly quelled within them. 

It seemed they could only hope it’d be that easy.

Their nano-particle suits folded away, leaving them in simple black tactical outfits lined with a thin but extremely strong armor as they stared up at the mountainous peaks around them, and the towering cliff far above them in the distance. They found that what they’d known to be conveniently oxygenated air wasn’t cold, nor was it warm. It simply…was. It was a bit unnerving, but they silently agreed that it could have easily been much worse. “Hey…you up for a hike?” Tony asked, his well-practiced tone of ease only just barely giving away traces of the harsh reality, that…he just couldn’t bring himself, to get back into the Benatar.

Because the reality was, that every time he pictured stepping inside, he was lying there, helpless and half-dead on the floor of the cockpit, with Peter about to die in his arms; and nothing, absolutely _nothing,_ that he could do to remedy it. And simply put…

  


He never wanted to go back there again.

  


“It’d…it’ll be good exercise, don’t you think?” he quipped after a short pause, trying and characteristically failing in his effort to ease the ominous vibes coming off of almost everything they saw.

“Yeah, I guess.” Peter absently murmured back, fortunately able to think past their shared trauma as the now faint, but constant, on-edge feeling in his brain effectively fixed his attention on the looming peak whose silhouette jutted over the horizon.

“I’ve got you, kid.” Tony reminded him, and with little more than a nod they began their climb, never once taking their eyes off of one another and maintaining consistent brushes of contact as they wordlessly trekked up the rocky terrain. As they went, they found the rich sunset-colored skies high in the air to be a surprisingly gorgeous sight, pausing a for second every now and again to take in the view.

  


“…Tony?” Peter said eventually, breaking the silence after they stopped hallway up the jagged path to catch their breath.

“Yeah, Peter?”

“…what are going to do once we get the stones? I-I mean, only the most powerful beings in the universe can even try, really, to use any _one_ of them, right? So…what are we going to do once we have all _six?”_

“I…I don’t know, kid.” Tony said, feeling something sink in his stomach but electing to ignore it. “I guess we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it.” Seeing Peter’s furrowed brow, he lightly smacked his shoulder, disliking how adult his protégé of sorts seemed to him. He looked as though the weight of the world were resting on his shoulders, and like he felt utterly powerless beneath its burden. _Well, either like that,_ Tony mused, _or maybe more like he just took a bite out of a lemon._ “Hey, don’t worry about it. One thing at a time, okay? We’ll figure it out. We’re the Avengers, aren’t we? It’s what we do.” 

Peter nodded in response, and they continued walking, but in truth…that wasn’t what worried him. What worried him, was that he didn’t know what it was that was building, and keeping him so on edge. Something was coming, something…vague, but impending nonetheless. In any case, however, he stayed silent; not wanting to add to Tony’s obvious unease with a feeling he couldn’t even specify.

  


After another silent half hour or so, they seemed to have finally begun to approach the top, and peered around a curved portion of their path to see a series of stone arches, and a ghostly figure standing amongst them as though it was…waiting.  
Waiting…but for what, the two of them knew they could only hope to speculate.  
Peter felt even more apprehensive than before, the prickling of his spider-DNA enhanced senses simply continuing to add to how uneasy he was without actually telling him anything he didn’t already know. “Stay behind me, Peter, and get ready to fight our way out of this if we have to.” Tony whispered, slowly making his way forward and trailing his fingers on the textured stone cliffside as he went. He stopped just a handful of steps away from the figure, whose shadow-like cloak fluttered in a peal of wind as a voice from within their hood began to speak.

“Anthony, son of Maria. Peter, son of…Anthony.” Tony felt a chill go up his spine, and all of a sudden, getting the hell out of there seemed very appealing. However, mostly on principle, he refused to give up simply because of an initial creep factor. What else did he expect, anyway, coming out into space like this? A Burger King? Peter felt the same, but chose to step out from behind the older man’s back and stand at his side regardless.

“How did you–“ Tony started to ask the shadow before Peter cut him off.

“Tony!” Peter breathed as the figure stepped forward, close enough that they could see his face. “Is that…” he trailed off as the two of them stared ahead, their eyes sweeping over what was left of the man’s features until there was no denying just who it was.

“…Johann Schmidt.” Tony finished, taking a step forward and almost instinctually holding his arm in a protective gesture low across Peter’s waist. He’d considered many, many variables coming into this, but of course he’d still encounter things no one in their right mind could possibly predict.  
_Typical._ he thought, silently sighing as he elected to stick to what little semblance of simplicity he could say he had left. “Gotta say…It’s been a long time since we thought you were still kickin’ around. I’m sure Cap thought he’d seen the last of you, I know I did. Oh, and,” he said, gesturing to the area around them. “All of this, with the stone, and- and the subtle morbidity? I love what you’ve done with the place, I really do.” When met with silence, Tony continued, voicing his initial question in full this time. “Anyway…how, exactly, did you know who we are? You got internet up here, or something? YouTube, maybe?”

“It is my curse to know all who journey here.”

“How…how exactly did you _get,_ here?” Peter asked, before Tony shot him a look and he reluctantly resigned to stay quiet.

“A lifetime ago, I too sought the stones. I even held one in my hand. But it cast me out, banished me here; guiding others to a treasure I can never hope to possess.”

“Great, great, touching story…would you mind maybe letting the guiding begin, then?” Tony said, looking to the left and the right – but keeping his peripheral on Peter – as though he’d somehow find himself lucky enough to see a neon sign or a tour map pointing him in the right direction. “I hate to be demanding, but, I gotta be honest, we’re kinda running on a tight schedule here; just travelling across space-time, saving the universe…you know how it is.” 

Peter recognized Tony’s well-worn façade of nonchalance for what it was; a shield behind which to mask his fear, to disguise his readiness and uneasiness and the constant prayer that he won’t end up having need to be either. Schmidt – who Peter, at random, found himself thinking of as Shadow Schmidt before shaking his head to clear the thought – nodded, the corner of his mouth quirking up to side for a moment, before turning around and beginning to walk into the thin layers of mist towards what Peter guessed was the cliff’s edge.

“Come with me.”

After a few moments of cautiously walking behind him, and of Tony internally debating how much sass was playing it safe, they’d stopped, in a sort of courtyard that opened up onto the ledge, with two ominously large towers of stone marking the sides. Tony might’ve made a comment about how foreboding this place was, if only…it weren’t so true. He tried to avoid letting his attention sit on any one thing for too long, and held Peter closer to him for good measure; keeping the two of them well away from the precarious drop. _As if I’d go anywhere_ near _that thing,_ Peter thought to himself, even though part of him still secretly felt grateful for the gesture. 

“So…where’s the stone?” Tony asked, disguising his still-prickling unease as impatience. “If we could just borrow it real quick and then be on our way, let you get back to whatever you were doing – brooding, maybe? Listening to angsty songs on your Zune? – it’d be much appreciated, it really would.”

“What you seek lies in front of you. As does what you fear.”

“Uh, I’m sorry…what?”

“The price. Soul holds a special place among the Infinity Stones. You might say it is a certain…wisdom. To ensure that whoever possesses it, understands its power, the Stone…demands a sacrifice.”

“I’m sorry, _wha–“_ Tony started to repeat indignantly before Peter, who was no less afraid, cut him off.

“A sacrifice of what?” he asked, planting his feet firmly and asking simply without contempt. His tone was gentle but firm, and in his posture Tony was taken aback by what he saw unfolding before his eyes. In Peter, he realized that he saw a strong, independent, adult human being; someone only really reminiscent of the kid he knew and guiltily wished so badly that he could hold onto. On the inside, of course, Peter was practically quivering, but as he’d grown skilled at doing in the past five years, he managed to keep it all locked away; letting his nervousness fester, but not show.

“In order to take the stone, you must lose that which you love.” Schmidt said, a flicker of respect now present in his piercing gaze.

“What do you mean by tha–“ Peter began to ask, before Tony’s fear and irritation got the better of him and he interjected. 

"No, I'm sorry, _asshat._ What exactly do you _mean,_ you must _lose that which you love?_ And, please; without the cryptic Bleecker street wizard sort of garbage. Yeah, I've met one, I know wizard-type shit when I hear it." Peter’s eyes were wide, afraid that Tony had gone too far, and hurried to apologize; tripping over his words before realizing that Schmidt didn’t seem fazed at all. Instead, he turned back to Peter, ignoring the outburst and only serving to irritate Tony further, before the boy’s feather-light touch on his shoulder convinced him to keep his mouth shut for the time being.

“What it means, is a soul for a soul.” the condemned messenger said calmly.

“…a soul, f-for a soul?” Peter asked, unable to keep the tremble out of his voice as the meaning behind the words settled in. A soul for a soul meant…but it couldn’t possibly mean… “…a sacrifice?”

  


“Yes.”

  


Tony saw Peter frozen with fear, connecting the dots, but even as he did the same himself…he refused to accept it. He couldn’t. He felt himself going cold with terror, his worst nightmares manifesting themselves before his very eyes, but he found the strength to protest. He wouldn’t give in so quickly, and he wouldn’t go down without a fight. This couldn’t be true.

It _couldn’t_ be.

“No. No, that can’t be it.” Tony said, his thoughts already beginning to feverishly spiral. “That’s not what he means!” he yelled, drawing Peter close and holding him with more strength than he felt he’d ever had in his life. He knew it was just the fear, the adrenaline, but he didn’t care. His eyes burned with a protective fervor, and he was more than ready to forsake all logic and do what was necessary. _Not again. Not Peter._ the words rang in his head, burning themselves into the forefront of his mind as he stared down the shadow of a man who had no right whatsoever to ask this of either of them, to ask this of anyone. 

With every passing second, the grave knowledge that it was true sank in further, but regardless, he continued to resist it. He had to. How could he do anything else? “You have no _right!_” Tony practically roared, his voice thundering across the clearing and sending a light flurry of mist scattering. But his efforts were to no avail, and nothing changed. He still felt it undeniably in his bones, in the air, and he couldn’t do a single. thing. about it. “You, have…_no,_ right.” Tony repeated, his voice breaking and his chest shuddering as he held Peter closer, his eyes becoming red-rimmed with overwhelming fear. How they had gotten here, he could only wonder; only hope, that fate would show them mercy. 

But instead, fate stayed silent, and he felt Peter calmly move his arms; pulling away from his grasp and taking a step forward, when to Tony, he should have done no such thing.

“A soul for a soul…the soul, o-of somebody you love? That’s the only way, the _only,_ way, to get the stone?” Peter asked, his gaze neutral yet sharp and unwavering. Schmidt simply nodded, standing away. “Okay.” Peter said solemnly, keeping the word and his eyes steady even though he was more scared, more terrified, than he’d ever been in his life. “Okay,” he repeated, his voice still only just barely beginning to quiver. “we’ll…I’ll, do it.

  


“A-a soul, for…a soul.” 

  


The glimmer of respect in Schmidt’s expression only grew, as never in his time had he seen anyone brave enough to face their fate, brave enough to make the ultimate sacrifice when they seemed to understand so clearly what it was they were about to do.

Peter looked down into the clouded abyss that lay below the cliff’s edge, and while it felt cold, and it felt off, somehow…its chilling, yet clear-cut sense of reality made it feel like it was simply the right way for things to go. He felt his headache of spider DNA-induced premonitions, which had been dully screaming ever since he even began to think about this mission, slowly fall silent; leaving in their wake a sense of peace, and a sense of finality that he didn’t think would be so…calming. So simple. 

He took a step closer, stray pebbles beneath his feet sliding and falling soundlessly into the chasm that awaited him below.

“Whoa, there, underoos.” Tony started, taking a cautious step forward and trying his best not to let his voice shake. Because if his voice shook, then he couldn’t keep the nightmares from becoming real, and if he couldn’t keep the nightmares from becoming real, then…then what did he have left? “Just…just think, about this, for a minute. Okay? We…we don’t know if this guy’s _lying,_ we don’t know if he’s–”

“Tony.” Peter said, his eyes brimming with sorrow and his voice so strong, yet so fragile. Just the sight of him, like this, in a moment so final, a moment so enveloped in the feeling of an ending, made Tony’s heart ache in ways he could’ve never imagined possible. In ways that made his walls, each and every one carefully constructed and fortified over years and years of emotional detachment and crippling fear, all come crashing down within the span of a single second. 

“I can’t lose you.” Tony whispered, the words so faint yet their echo so profound as they made their way across the clearing and straight into the heart of his son. “Please, I can’t…I can’t lose you.” Tony sank to his knees, his eyes still locked on the boy whose light he never wanted to leave him. Whose precious, free-spirited smile he’d never wanted to see more in his life. “All and every cost, Peter, the whole universe be damned. Please, I need…I need to…I need to keep you safe. Don’t…don’t do this. If anyone, it should be me, but this isn’t up for debate. It’s going to be no one, or maybe, worst-case scenario…it’ll be DnD cosplayer over there.” he stopped, letting out a nervous, almost strangled laugh, a sound that sounded so alien as it exited his throat that Peter felt something lurch within his chest.  
“But we’ll…we’ll find another way.” Tony continued desperately, silently praying to anything, anyone, that could even possibly be listening. “One where no one dies, okay? One where…one where everyone walks out of this alive. Just…step away, from the edge, and we can talk about this.” He paused, allowing himself only the shortest of instants. “Please.” Peter cast a breathless look down into the murky shadows, making Tony’s heart race with terror even faster than it was already. He would throw himself forward first if it meant keeping Peter safe, if it meant seeing Pepper again. But he couldn’t do that to Peter. He owed it to him to find a way out. A way out for himself, for Peter, and for everyone; Pepper included. 

“Please.” Tony repeated, his words feeling like fraying string as he struggled to keep his son within his grasp. “I have…I have to protect, the one thing I can’t live without.” His voice broke, but he didn’t try to stop it. He found that he simply couldn’t, anymore. Peter drew a shaky inhale, taking a moment and closing his eyes before rushing back into his father’s arms, tears streaming down his face and delicate sobs spilling from his chest.

“I love you, dad.” Peter whispered, melting into Tony’ waiting embrace and sinking into his chest as he felt the older man’s hands carding through his hair. And for this one moment, even as the wind howling around the mountain gave them a wide berth and even as a warming chill settled into their bones, everything was _fine._ Everything was fine, because Peter was safe, with his father, and everything…everything was going to be okay. 

Well, at least; maybe it could’ve been. 

  


Perhaps they were never meant to know.

  


Because just as soon as the moment began, it was ripped away from them; any fragile, growing hopes for a happy ending immediately shattered in slow motion.

Peter pulled away from Tony’s arms with a movement so sharp it made the former hero’s balance falter, made his mouth open in a silent scream as he tried and failed to reach forward, to grab his son and pull him back. “I’m sorry.” The apology rang in the air, everything else going perfectly still as Peter ran, ran right past the one who’d prompted his damnation and ran, sprinting straight for the horizon. He pressed his feet into the ground as hard as could and shot himself forward, his heart feeling heavier and lighter in equal measure with every step he took, until at last…

He jumped.

And his body dropped in a graceful arc over the side of the rock, plunging through the clouds and down towards the ground below in one single, fluid movement.

The wind whistled in his ears as he fell, but the last thing he’d see would be the stars; pinpricks of warm light nestled within the mist that would soothe his lingering fears and calm his firing nerves in every way he’d ever deserved. 

It was frightening, and it was terrifying, and he was so, so, sorry that he had to do this to everyone he loved, but he smiled, finding it easier; almost simpler, to forget that he was falling. And as his eyes slid shut for the very last time, and his final breath escaped through his parted lips, his last thoughts were with Tony, and hoping he could enjoy the picture he saw painted like a whisper of beauty into the sky above them. _After all_, he figured as his neck pulled taut and the weights of the world took him as their own.

_There were worse ways to go than with a view, weren’t there?_

  


\---

Tony watched, feeling everything go silent and everything slow down, until all he could hear was his heart in his ears and all he could see was the empty space in the air, in his arms; the space where Peter should’ve been, had been only moments before. _No._ he thought, his mind frozen, yet reeling. _No._

_Peter._

A choked gasp escaped from somewhere deep within him, and it was like feeling everything and nothing all at once within the span of a single heartbeat. Like his whole world had been ripped from his grasp, and a piece of him, the only piece of him that mattered, was simply _gone_ right along with it. And through his bleary haze of emerging grief, of a shock so numbing it rendered him all but useless, he wanted to do all of many things. 

He wanted to run to edge, look down at what was left of his precious, precious Peter and his seemingly boundless potential for good; whether or not it truly was boundless, now they’d never know. He wanted to cry, sob, let out a guttural scream so loud and so heart-wrenching that it shook the heavens and _brought back his son._ He wanted to run to Schmidt, beat him senseless, beg him to fix this. Because there had to be a fix.

There had to be.

“…kid…” he whispered, a truly heart-broken, hollow sound, and the only sound of millions he found himself capable of making. He mutedly reached out to grasp at the space in front of him, but his fingers found purchase on nothing, and he felt something inside of him crumble at the realization that he wasn’t dreaming. At the realization, that, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to dream again.

He’d already lost everything once.

How was he supposed to do it all over again?

“He made his choice.” Schmidt said, stepping forward. His words were final, but not harsh, and he looked up into the sky around them as though he hoped to see it in the same way Peter did. “Now, you must carry it forward. Do not let this young boy’s sacrifice go in vain.” He paused, before adding in a softer tone, “for what it’s worth…he loved you very much.” 

Tony stayed silent, all colors of potential responses coming to mind but none able to make it past the tip of his tongue. He tilted his head upwards as he felt a certain energy cascading from the ground into the sky, and Tony could feel it in his bones, like something stabbing him in each and every cell; The moment wherein the light went out in his son’s eyes, and the moment when everything _stopped._  
He felt this world calling, felt forces beyond his understanding pulling him in as the sky went alight, alight in ways Peter would never be again. He let his aching eyelids flutter shut, and felt the shreds of his heart beating in tandem with the one that beat no longer. 

And when everything went black, he found himself alone with the memory of not being fast enough, of not being strong enough, of simply not being _enough,_ to keep the nightmares away; and the morbid hope that, perhaps, he’d never have to try to be enough again. Because, after all, without Peter…

What did he have to be enough for?

\---

When he drifted into consciousness, he was lying on his back in a thin layer of what somehow felt like warmth; a warmth that was slightly chilling in nature, in a way, simply put, that only the truth felt. He slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, realizing it was some sort of liquid, only one that wasn’t quite wet. Once again, just like everything else in this place, it simply…_was._ He sat, his arms slung over his knees and his back arched forward, when the haze began to resettle and he recollected how he got here; the blow and the devastation hitting him slowly, and then all at once.  
_Peter._

_I failed._

He hung his head in his lap, unable to think, unable to cry and hardly able to breath underneath the crushing realization of what he’d just been powerless to stop. Peter had _thrown himself off of a cliff,_ and for _what?_ For some…space rock, to help save a half of the universe that’d been reduced to ash over five years ago? Tony knew that one life, only one, for billions, trillions; it shouldn’t have even been a question. There was a time in his life when he wouldn’t have given it a second thought, a time when he would’ve considered the solution _lucky,_ and jumped at the chance to fix whatever mess he’d gotten himself into this week. A time when he would’ve been eager to fast forward through the resolution, and been more than ready to call it a day. 

Especially, if it meant something like bringing back Pepper. 

But now, now that his son, his center, his _everything,_ was gone…he couldn’t think. All he knew was that Peter wasn’t in his arms, that his heart was ripped out of his chest, and that he would always be broken the way he was now. 

Always. 

Because without Peter to keep him warm, without Peter to keep him afloat, without Peter to give him new meaning every moment of every day for the rest of his life, for the rest of the life Peter would never get to have…who cared, about the billions? About the trillions, the masses, the numbers no one could process and the lives no one could count? Who…who could measure that? One life, so, so _full,_ one life bursting with potential, and energy, and vibrancy, and so much _love…_who could say if this had been right, if this had been okay? Not him. Not the grieving father left alone in the ruins; the ruins of the man Tony Stark had once been, the ruins of what was forever going to be a life cut too short, and the ruins of a future that he would never be able to say was worth it. Not him. 

Never him.

He blinked the dryness from his eyes, raw from the tears he couldn’t bring himself to form, and realized he had something nestled in the palm of his right hand. He slowly uncurled his fingers, and found a stone, a small amber stone pulsing with a light so familiar it made what was left of his heart pull and ache within his tightened chest. It was the light, the kind of light he felt within himself whenever he thought about all the good Peter was; about how he never knew what he did to earn the love, the trust, of something so perfect, of someone so innocent and fragile and strong who so clearly deserved the world. The universe. He turned it in his hands, and at every angle, he felt years of light all bubbling to the surface. He felt love, and for a single, blissful moment, he almost felt his son in his arms.

Almost.

And then he was cold, the warmth of the stone thrumming in his fingers the only thing keeping him even remotely steady as the rest of him began to shiver. He realized the temperature of the air around him was dropping, faint tremors slowly beginning to quake the ground beneath his feet. _Good,_ he thought blearily. _Let it all burn._ He refused to think about Peter’s body, lying alone on the cold, fissuring ground, refused to think about anything. He turned his wrist, his body working on autopilot as mind receded further and further into the morbid reaches of shock, and felt his fingers press the button to take him back. The button to take him back to a world without Peter in it, a world he didn’t think he wanted to have to face. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore. 

He just wanted Peter. 

His suit materialized over his body, pulling him into the mind-numbing vortex of the quantum realm as the haze of devastation began to fade; slowly but surely taking the wall in true grief’s way along with it. He found himself reaching out for Peter’s hand, for his face, for his curls, but found nothing. No one.

  


He truly was alone now.

  


\---

When he reappeared on the platform, where everyone else had just arrived as well – one of the perks of time travel – he lost his footing, his suit disappearing as he collapsed beneath a weight of exhaustion and quickly surging heartache he hadn’t remembered hitting him full force. 

The feel of the reinforced glass beneath his bones was a distant discomfort he found himself unable to register, and he sunk into the brief semblance of feeling more easily than he should’ve. “Tony!” Rhodey called distantly, his helmet’s nanoparticles folding away as he rushed to the fallen man’s side. “Tony, what happened?” The grief-stricken man – lying this way in truly every measure of the words – sunk limply onto his friend’s chest, his breaths shuddering and his eyes far away. “Steve, get over here! Natasha! Somebody!” The others stood back as Steve gently shifted the man’s weight so that Rhodey could move, the two of them kneeling down next to him as Natasha began to check his body over for injuries.

“I don’t see any wounds, or blood.” The former spy reported, unable to find any signs of physical injury.

“Wait.” Steve said, something hitting him about Tony’s arrival. 

“What is it?”

“Where’s Peter?”

Everything immediately went silent, the air tense and heavy beneath the weight of realization. Peter hadn’t come back…and Tony was like this. Which meant…

“Shit.” Rhodey muttered, his eyes brimming with a fearful sympathy. Scott, Rocket and Bruce exchanged similar glances, all in shock and overcome with the same surprise of grief. “Tony? Can you hear me?” Rhodey asked, gently palming the dull man’s cheek. Tony stirred, rubbed his eyes, blinking and trying to sit up.

“…yeah, yeah, I can hear you.” Tony said, his voice so quiet and hoarse that it was almost unrecognizable. Rhodey and Natasha exchanged a worried look, before she nodded to him and prompted him to continue.

“Tony, where…where is Peter?” Rhodey asked slowly, afraid of sending the man into a spiral or something far worse. Tony squeezed his eyes shut, holding his forehead in his palm as his lower lip began to quiver.

“He…I…” Tony drew a shaky breath, unable to make the words come, unable to sum up the loss of his world into a single sentence. He let what was left of the arrogance, of the bluntness, of the shield that failed to protect them, take the lead. “I lost the kid.” He visibly flinched as he said it, hearing the words come out of his mouth akin to feeling daggers strike him mercilessly in the side. “He’s…he’s gone.” He whispered.

“Gone?” Steve asked, and Rhodey winced, knowing what likely was coming next.

“I said he’s _gone,_ Steve!” Tony shouted, his voice broken and practically shattered beneath the weight of a heart-wrenching anguish as he leapt to his feet and tried to steady his ground. “He’s _gone,_ because I couldn’t _protect_ him! And, you know what? It…it should have been _me!_ It should have been _me,_ not him, not him, with his…with his whole life ahead of him.” Thor took a step forward, as though somewhat ready to restrain him, but Natasha shot him a look and he – albeit reluctantly – backed down. Tony fell back against one of the platform’s support beams, his face in his hand and what was left of his heart in his throat. “Why did it have to be him.” He whispered, the words just barely audible over the thunder of the room’s heavy silence.

“I’m…I’m sorry, Tony.” Steve said, genuinely aware of the kind of pain it would take to reduce a man like Tony Stark to the person he saw barely holding it together in front of him. He inhaled, as though there was something else he wanted to say, but a look from Rhodey and a moment to process the situation was all he needed to reconsider, and shut up. 

“Here.” Tony said, uncurling his fingers and roughly pressing the soul stone into Natasha’s palm. He looked at Steve, his gaze chaotic and dizzyingly spiraling in millions of directions all at once. “You wanted to ask, right? ‘Did I get the soul stone?’ Yeah, Rogers, I’ll spare you trouble. I did.” He walked up to Steve, pressing a finger into the center of the man’s chest and staring him in the face. “But at what. Cost.” he hissed below his breath before giving the soldier a shove and walking away, his legs swaying and his knees threatening to give out from beneath him as he did it. “And here,” he said, digging into his belt and thrusting his enclosed fist towards Rocket before harshly pushing the accursed Benatar into the crook of the raccoon’s palm. “Turns out we didn’t need it.” 

He wiped at stray moisture in the corner of his eye with his thumb as he clenched his jaw, turning away and shuffling off as he let the numbing whirl of emotions take him down and reel him into whatever hellish mental corkscrew they so pleased. “This wasn’t worth it.” he said, turning his head to the side before he fell out of earshot. “You hear me, Rogers?” he shouted. _“This wasn’t worth it!”_

\---

As he walked away, his eyes spinning and his fists held tight as though he might lose his fingers, he didn’t care that he’d just threatened to destroy what little precious headway he and Steve had made in the past five years; didn’t care that he could’ve brought it all crashing down by rekindling animosity that shouldn’t have ever been there in the first place. Peter was the only thing Tony had that mattered, and without him, without his son in his sight and his light in his arms, he just couldn’t bring himself to care about what scattered remnants he might find he had left. 

He…he just couldn’t.

He felt like a block of stone that was cracking, fissuring, shattering on the inside, making what thin semblance of strength was left on the outside weaker and more unstable than a stone should ever be. He’d always been broken, always been riddled with enough PTSD and character defects to self-destruct infinite times over. He’d always let fear secretly drive his every action, arrogance and an air of unforgiving bluntness taking over by default whenever things got too hard for him to be honest, when he’d inevitably shut down and hold the broken parts, the real parts, close. 

He’d always been afraid that he wouldn’t be enough. Had always done everything in his power, done whatever was necessary to keep everything that could ever possibly make him _less than_ bottled away, deep down on the inside; so far down that no one would ever think to look. But this time, the one time it really, _truly,_ mattered, the one time the most important thing in the world was at stake and the one time he _couldn’t screw up…_he did. He wasn’t enough to keep the nightmares at bay.

  


And he wasn’t enough to keep his son safe from the demons he swore could never even get close.

  


He moved like a block of melting ice, ice melting from the inside out, opening his door and throwing it shut with a quiet click. He sat down on the very corner of his bed, his head screaming and his neurons all firing in different directions at once as he ran his hands through the front of his hair, trying not to remember the feel of Peter’s curls; silky and rough all at once, because he’d never actually shampooed it properly. Tony turned to the side, looking at the pillows and blankets frozen in time to that morning, and tried not to remember the way Peter’s steady breaths felt from within his arms, the way his eyelashes fluttered and the way he smiled softly in his sleep. The man, just barely one of the living, looked around the room, at the walls, at himself, and all, he saw….

Was Peter.

But now…all he had were the memories, memories broken and tangled as they unfolding in the air around him at every turn.

Memories of all the times they fell asleep on their couch, a movie – most often Star Wars – still playing on a low volume and a popcorn bowl tipped over by their feet. Memories of comets and pancakes and creating new things in their lab, of birthdays and shared heartache and first days of college. Memories of finding each another awake before dawn and watching the sunrise together, and leaning on one another to remind themselves that each day was a new one. Memories of sappy acoustic guitar music mixed in with rock ballads to create soundtracks they practically lived by, and days when neither of them could get out of bed without remembering what they’d lost, and finding themselves too weak to stand. Memories of tears, laughter, and holding one another up under the stars, and of giving in to the grief; but never all the way. Memories of being alone, stranded in space, and of finding something in one another…something that they thought they could never have again.

…and top of everything else, clear as day, there were the memories of soft “I love you”s, whispered into the dark when they thought no one would hear them. 

The memories of how those simple words, uttered like a prayer, were just enough to make them feel…whole. How those words, were a beacon of hope; shared between a son and his father, almost like a source of light from within the shadows they’d never have to face alone again.

“I heard you, Peter.” Tony murmured softly, running his fingers along the edge of his blanket as a silent tear rolled down his cheek. “I swear…I heard you, and I loved you back, every time. Every…single…time.”

  


After a few moments of silence, there was a soft knock at the door, and Tony heard Natasha’s voice from the other side of the wall. “Tony?” she said gently. “Is it okay if I come in?” She was met with only silence, and cleared her throat before continuing from where she was. “We’re ready, to form the gauntlet. We have everything we need, and Bruce volunteered to be the one to snap. We think he’s strong enough, strong enough to make it work. We just…we just need you.” she paused, leaning against the doorframe. “It wouldn’t feel right to do it without you. And…Tony…” she hesitated. “we could try to bring him back.”

“Don’t do that.” Came the response, hollow in tone but hintingly fearful. “Hope, just…don’t do that. He’s…that stone is all that’s left of him.”

“Well, then…help us put it to use.” As she said it, Schmidt’s parting words rang in his mind, and he was back there again, watching powerlessly as everything played out before his eyes.

_He made his choice._ Peter ran. _Now, you must carry it forward._ Peter was there. _Do not let this young boy’s sacrifice go in vain._

And then he wasn’t.

Over the past five years, Tony had known it in his very being, and regrown himself around the concept that Peter, was the reason he had lived. He’d always believed that he’d survived everything the universe had thrown at him for _something,_ with some meaning or grander plan in mind. And then when he’d had a gaping hole in his chest, left reeling from loss and stranded in a broken world he desperately wished to leave, Peter had found his way in, and helped him rebuild his heart. Helped him rebuild him_self._ After that, there had been no unknowing it; that his son was his center, and that Peter was what generated the force that had kept him together this long.

It was written into his bones, etched into his skull, and burned into his soul that this. was why. 

He was here. 

To be Peter’s father, and to love him and protect him for every moment until his last.

Tony could claim that he didn’t know, could shut off and pull away and pretend not to understand why, why this life had spiraled inwards upon itself to become the thing it was; whatever it was. But he knew. He knew what he was living in. It was shattering, _shattering_ grief. It was clinging to a life he knew needed to end; a life that was already slipping from his grasp as though there was possibly anything left in the world to lose.

But…he had to remind himself. There _was_ something to lose.

  


The war wasn’t over just yet.

  


And somehow, Tony knew with the heaviest sense of truth that Schmidt, for all his blame in this…was right. He had to keep going. That’s all there was. Now, he had to hold the memories close, he had to cling tight to the world he was living in, and he had to be there to face everything Peter had died to give them a fighting chance against. Because, as hard as it was…

Peter had believed in it…didn’t he? 

He…he gave up everything for it, gave up everything for the speck of hope, one of six, that could carry them across the finish line and bring half of their universe home.

Half of _his_ universe home.

He was young, and he was scared, but he was so, _so_ strong; stronger, and braver, than Tony could ever be. Tony…he _owed_ it to his son, to carry on his legacy. To shape a new purpose in the wake of a life cut too short, and work as hard as he could to see this through to the end.

  


He _had_ to.

  


And he did.

  


\---

It was dark, but he wasn’t alone. The ground was scorched with flame and doused in blood, but the fight that had taken this piece of the world as its own wasn’t yet finished. And so, when he felt the power of six infinity stones coursing through his veins, and the edges of his vision began to distort with the rainbow of sheer force that he knew would be his end…Tony thought about the world he was leaving for the loves of his life, and he closed his eyes; focused on the thought that he was doing what it took. Just like he did. Because just like these last thoughts were for Pepper…this one was for Peter. 

Every time.

\---

When he opened his eyes, the echo of the snap rumbling throughout his every cell had gone dull, and he was standing in a place that he found he knew. The same place, in a pool of shallow truth, wherein he’d cradled all that was left of his son in his arms, and had felt himself begin to fall; tipping forever backwards, yet so slowly through his haze of grief that he was almost endlessly still. But now…he didn’t feel any of that.  
Now, he just saw the sky.  
The same stars that had comforted Peter shone softly from behind wispy clouds, and a stream of gentle winds took the weights of the world from his shoulders as it blanketed his neurons in the ease of tranquility. He knew, the thought warm and simple, that this was what Peter had seen as he succumbed to the gravity of his final moments; giving his life with more grace, and more compassion in his heart than the universe could ever hope to know.

“I did it for you, Peter.” he whispered, letting the words drift through what was left of a world gone all but still; of an unencumbered moment that existed outside all others.

Perhaps…perhaps this was how a hero was made to go. Perhaps, this was how what was left of a hero was meant to rest. Because, as he felt himself begin to fade away, and looked down to feel his hand in his son’s once more…he knew what he’d done this for. 

Every, single, time.

No matter the ending…

  


…and whatever the cost.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Okay, a couple things.
> 
> First and foremost: ...I'm sorry.
> 
> Okay and now that that's out of the way- (no I'm just kidding the apology was genuine really)
> 
> Also, very random, but, in Only Time, there's this bit about how Tony isn't a father, he's a parent, and in this thing I use the word father a grand total of two times? (it was six before, when I wrote this note, but with as much effort as I could give it I managed to cut it down haha)  
By the time I realized it I really couldn't remedy it; the word parent unfortunately doesn't roll off the tongue quite as well in every situation and the word guardian simply isn't always quite right.  
I just wanted to say that, because I tried my best to honor as many nuances of the original story as possible. Really, I did. I guess this is just my way of letting you know that yes, I did think about these things, and yes, I do think about these things.
> 
> Anyway, in conclusion...
> 
> Getting the opportunity to write this meant so much, and I would just love to thank losingmymindtonight for being so nice about it, and for giving me the chance to pull the idea out of my head and do something that could be somewhat meaningful with it. I don't know if my writing abilities did this any justice, but I hope they turned this into something you can appreciate. 
> 
> You probably totally forgot about this, and thought no way was I actually going to follow through with it after this much time, but...PSYCH! I did muahahaha (I hope you can tell I'm laughing good-naturedly at myself right now as I type this)
> 
> Furthermore, I'd love to thank all of you for reading, as well. It means the world to get these kind of chances, and hopefully you were able to enjoy. The thought of me being able to make any of you feel something, by putting words on a site for you to read on your screen, it's just...it's just unreal. Really, you have all my gratitude and more.
> 
> Please let me know what you thought, and until next time...stay tuned!


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